2003-04-25 ~ 6:28 p.m.

The Work Card Experience

I need help with my "optional fields" on this diaryland.....thing.... I have them labeled and all.... they're just not showing up...And it's making me very angry.

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I went to the Sherriff's Department today to get my work card renewed. That's a pain in the ass. It's not even the Sherriff's Department anymore. You know what they call it now?

A Royale with Cheese.

(See..that would be funny to me except I actually thought of that as I was driving away from it and thinking about how I was going to write the experience down. I am a sick, sad woman.)

While I was in line with a myriad of other people at the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department Processing/Fingerprinting section, a guy comes walking by. He wasn't particularly special. Nothing particularly weird. Well, maybe he was weird because he was walking around the streets of downtown without being "ethnic". Nor did he look like a crack dealer. A few of us just kinda watched him walk because he was moving and we were not. As he passed, he said to the guy behind me, "Take a picture. It'll last longer." We all kinda looked around at each other almost inquisitively like "What did YOU do to piss him off cause I know it wasn't me." The we all kinda laughed.

I brought a magazine, so waiting time didn't take too long. It was just really uncomfortable. They don't have chairs, they have rows of benches.

As the programmed voice spouted numbers, I took a quick glance from my article to look at the number board, ya know, in case I missed it from being blared in my ear, I took a gander at the TV to see what was on, and noticed that the TV ALSO has the number being called captioned on it. I wonder how many people missed their number being called because of being totally engrossed in As The World Turns.

I went in, got my picture taken. I almost look like a body builder in my picture, but the best part is the glow coming off my chest. It's like land of the rising bosom.

I go to get my fingerprints taken. They have a newfangled way to do it. They don't dip you in ink anymore. They have a sensitive pad that they press your fingers on, it shows up on a computer screen. It's pretty fucking cool. The art of mass-fingerprinting is gone though. Last time I was there, they herded a bunch of us in, a woman would make a bitch out of my hands, and send me off with a handi wipe. Now, they have to do it and redo it to get it in correctly.

I got my card and I was on my way.

One of the signs downtown now says, "Casino District. Park it!" (The Fremont Street Experience closes off a good chunk of driving space so that pedestrians feel safe to roam freely.)

Anyway, someone felt it funny enough to take the time to scratch an "S" in front of "Park it".

How much crack do you have to smoke for that to be even remotely funny enough to take the time to find something sharp to scratch that in with?

No really. I want to know.

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